An Enquiry into the Principles of Morals, by David Hume

Appendix IV.

Of some verbal disputes.

Nothing is more usual than for philosophers to encroach upon the province of grammarians; and to engage in disputes
of words, while they imagine that they are handling controversies of the deepest importance and concern. It was in
order to avoid altercations, so frivolous and endless, that I endeavoured to state with the utmost caution the object
of our present enquiry; and proposed simply to collect, on the one hand, a list of those mental qualities which are the
object of love or esteem, and form a part of personal merit; and on the other hand, a catalogue of those qualities
which are the object of censure or reproach, and which detract from the character of the person possessed of them;
subjoining some reflections concerning the origin of these sentiments of praise or blame. On all occasions, where there
might arise the least hesitation, I avoided the terms virtue and vice; because some of those
qualities, which I classed among the objects of praise, receive, in the English language, the appellation of
talents, rather than of virtues; as some of the blameable or censurable qualities are often called defects,
rather than vices. It may now, perhaps, be expected that before we conclude this moral enquiry, we should exactly
separate the one from the other; should mark the precise boundaries of virtues and talents, vices and defects; and
should explain the reason and origin of that distinction. But in order to excuse myself from this undertaking, which
would, at last, prove only a grammatical enquiry, I shall subjoin the four following reflections, which shall contain
all that I intend to say on the present subject.

First, I do not find that in the English, or any other modern tongue, the boundaries are exactly fixed between
virtues and talents, vices and defects, or that a precise definition can be given of the one as contradistinguished
from the other. Were we to say, for instance, that the esteemable qualities alone, which are voluntary, are entitled to
the appellations of virtues; we should soon recollect the qualities of courage, equanimity, patience, self-command;
with many others, which almost every language classes under this appellation, though they depend little or not at all
on our choice. Should we affirm that the qualities alone, which prompt us to act our part in society, are entitled to
that honourable distinction; it must immediately occur that these are indeed the most valuable qualities, and are
commonly denominated the social virtues; but that this very epithet supposes that there are also virtues of
another species. Should we lay hold of the distinction between intellectual and moral endowments, and
affirm the last alone to be the real and genuine virtues, because they alone lead to action; we should find that many
of those qualities, usually called intellectual virtues, such as prudence, penetration, discernment, discretion, had
also a considerable influence on conduct. The distinction between the heart and the head may also be adopted: the
qualities of the first may be defined such as in their immediate exertion are accompanied with a feeling of sentiment;
and these alone may be called the genuine virtues: but industry, frugality, temperance, secrecy, perseverance, and many
other laudable powers or habits, generally stiled virtues are exerted without any immediate sentiment in the person
possessed of them, and are only known to him by their effects. It is fortunate, amidst all this seeming perplexity,
that the question, being merely verbal, cannot possibly be of any importance. A moral, philosophical discourse needs
not enter into all these caprices of language, which are so variable in different dialects, and in different ages of
the same dialect. But on the whole, it seems to me, that though it is always allowed, that there are virtues of many
different kinds, yet, when a man is called virtuous, or is denominated a man of virtue, we chiefly regard his social
qualities, which are, indeed, the most valuable. It is, at the same time, certain, that any remarkable defect in
courage, temperance, economy, industry, understanding, dignity of mind, would bereave even a very good-natured, honest
man of this honourable appellation. Who did ever say, except by way of irony, that such a one was a man of great
virtue, but an egregious blockhead?

But, Secondly, it is no wonder that languages should not be very precise in marking the boundaries between virtues
and talents, vices and defects; since there is so little distinction made in our internal estimation of them. It seems
indeed certain, that the sentiment of conscious worth, the self-satisfaction proceeding from a review of a
man’s own conduct and character; it seems certain, I say, that this sentiment, which, though the most common of all
others, has no proper name in our language,55 arises from the endowments of
courage and capacity, industry and ingenuity, as well as from any other mental excellencies. Who, on the other hand, is
not deeply mortified with reflecting on his own folly and dissoluteness, and feels not a secret sting or compunction
whenever his memory presents any past occurrence, where he behaved with stupidity of ill-manners? No time can efface
the cruel ideas of a man’s own foolish conduct, or of affronts, which cowardice or impudence has brought upon him. They
still haunt his solitary hours, damp his most aspiring thoughts, and show him, even to himself, in the most
contemptible and most odious colours imaginable.

What is there too we are more anxious to conceal from others than such blunders, infirmities, and meannesses, or
more dread to have exposed by raillery and satire? And is not the chief object of vanity, our bravery or learning, our
wit or breeding, our eloquence or address, our taste or abilities? These we display with care, if not with ostentation;
and we commonly show more ambition of excelling in them, than even in the social virtues themselves, which are, in
reality, of such superior excellence. Good-nature and honesty, especially the latter, are so indispensably required,
that, though the greatest censure attends any violation of these duties, no eminent praise follows such common
instances of them, as seem essential to the support of human society. And hence the reason, in my opinion, why, though
men often extol so liberally the qualities of their heart, they are shy in commending the endowments of their head:
because the latter virtues, being supposed more rare and extraordinary, are observed to be the more usual objects of
pride and self-conceit; and when boasted of, beget a strong suspicion of these sentiments.

It is hard to tell, whether you hurt a man’s character most by calling him a knave or a coward, and whether a
beastly glutton or drunkard be not as odious and contemptible, as a selfish, ungenerous miser. Give me my choice, and I
would rather, for my own happiness and self-enjoyment, have a friendly, humane heart, than possess all the other
virtues of Demosthenes and Philip united: but I would rather pass with the world for one endowed with extensive genius
and intrepid courage, and should thence expect stronger instances of general applause and admiration. The figure which
a man makes in life, the reception which he meets with in company, the esteem paid him by his acquaintance; all these
advantages depend as much upon his good sense and judgement, as upon any other part of his character. Had a man the
best intentions in the world, and were the farthest removed from all injustice and violence, he would never be able to
make himself be much regarded, without a moderate share, at least, of parts and understanding.

What is it then we can here dispute about? If sense and courage, temperance and industry, wisdom and knowledge
confessedly form a considerable part of personal merit: if a man, possessed of these qualities, is both better
satisfied with himself, and better entitled to the good-will, esteem, and services of others, than one entirely
destitute of them; if, in short, the sentiments are similar which arise from these endowments and from the
social virtues; is there any reason for being so extremely scrupulous about a word, or disputing whether they
be entitled to the denomination of virtues? It may, indeed, be pretended, that the sentiment of approbation, which
those accomplishments produce, besides its being inferior, is also somewhat different from that which
attends the virtues of justice and humanity. But this seems not a sufficient reason for ranking them entirely under
different classes and appellations. The character of Caesar and that of Cato, as drawn by Sallust, are both of them
virtuous, in the strictest and most limited sense of the word; but in a different way: nor are the sentiments entirely
the same which arise from them. The one produces love, the other esteem: the one is amiable, the other awful: we should
wish to meet the one character in a friend; the other we should be ambitious of in ourselves. In like manner the
approbation, which attends temperance or industry or frugality, may be somewhat different from that which is paid to
the social virtues, without making them entirely of a different species. And, indeed, we may observe, that these
endowments, more than the other virtues, produce not, all of them, the same kind of approbation. Good sense and genius
beget esteem and regard: wit and humour excite love and affection.56

Most people, I believe, will naturally, without premeditation, assent to the definition of the elegant and judicious
poet:

What pretensions has a man to our generous assistance or good offices, who has dissipated his wealth in profuse
expenses, idle vanities, chimerical projects, dissolute pleasures or extravagant gaming? These vices (for we scruple
not to call them such) bring misery unpitied, and contempt on every one addicted to them.

Achaeus, a wise and prudent prince, fell into a fatal snare, which cost him his crown and life, after having used
every reasonable precaution to guard himself against it. On that account, says the historian, he is a just object of
regard and compassion: his betrayers alone of hatred and contempt58.

The precipitate flight and improvident negligence of Pompey, at the beginning of the civil wars, appeared such
notorious blunders to Cicero, as quite palled his friendship towards that great man. In the same manner, says he, as
want of cleanliness, decency, or discretion in a mistress are found to alienate our affections. For so he expresses
himself, where he talks, not in the character of a philosopher, but in that of a statesman and man of the world, to his
friend Atticus. [Lib. ix. epist. 10]. But the same Cicero, in imitation of all the ancient moralists, when he reasons
as a philosopher, enlarges very much his ideas of virtue, and comprehends every laudable quality or endowment of the
mind, under that honourable appellation. This leads to the third reflection, which we proposed to make, to
wit, that the ancient moralists, the best models, made no material distinction among the different species of mental
endowments and defects, but treated all alike under the appellation of virtues and vices, and made them
indiscriminately the object of their moral reasonings. The prudence explained in Cicero’s Offices59 is that sagacity, which leads to the discovery of truth, and preserves us from
error and mistake. magnanimity, temperance, decency, are there also at large discoursed of. And as that
eloquent moralist followed the common received division of the four cardinal virtues, our social duties form but one
head, in the general distribution of his subject.60

We need only peruse the titles of chapters in Aristotle’s Ethics to be convinced that he ranks courage, temperance,
magnificence, magnanimity, modesty, prudence, and a manly openness, among the virtues, as well as justice and
friendship.

To sustain and to abstain, that is, to be patient and continent, appeared to some of the ancients
a summary comprehension of all morals.

Epictetus has scarcely ever mentioned the sentiment of humanity and compassion, but in order to put his disciples on
their guard against it. The virtue of the Stoics seems to consist chiefly in a firm temper and a sound understanding.
With them, as with Solomon and the eastern moralists, folly and wisdom are equivalent to vice and virtue.

Men will praise thee, says David,61 when thou dost well unto thyself. I
hate a wise man, says the Greek poet, who is not wise to himself62. Plutarch
is no more cramped by systems in his philosophy than in his history. Where he compares the great men of Greece and
Rome, he fairly sets in opposition all their blemishes and accomplishments of whatever kind, and omits nothing
considerable, which can either depress or exalt their characters. His moral discourses contain the same free and
natural censure of men and manners.

The character of Hannibal, as drawn by Livy,63 is esteemed partial, but
allows him many eminent virtues. Never was there a genius, says the historian, more equally fitted for those opposite
offices of commanding and obeying; and it were, therefore, difficult to determine whether he rendered himself
dearer to the general or to the army. To none would Hasdrubal entrust more willingly the conduct of any
dangerous enterprize; under none did the soldiers discover more courage and confidence. Great boldness in facing
danger; great prudence in the midst of it. No labour could fatigue his body or subdue his mind. Cold and heat were
indifferent to him: meat and drink he sought as supplies to the necessities of nature, not as gratifications of his
voluptuous appetites. Waking or rest he used indiscriminately, by night or by day. — These great Virtues were balanced
by great Vices; inhuman cruelty; perfidy more than punic; no truth, no faith, no regard to oaths, promises, or
religion.

The character of Alexander the Sixth, to be found in Guicciardin,64 is
pretty similar, but juster; and is a proof that even the moderns, where they speak naturally, hold the same language
with the ancients. In this pope, says he, there was a singular capacity and judgement: admirable prudence; a wonderful
talent of persuasion; and in all momentous enterprizes a diligence and dexterity incredible. But these virtues
were infinitely overbalanced by his vices; no faith, no religion, insatiable avarice, exorbitant ambition, and
a more than barbarous cruelty.

Polybius,65 reprehending Timaeus for his partiality against Agathocles,
whom he himself allows to be the most cruel and impious of all tyrants, says: if he took refuge in Syracuse, as
asserted by that historian, flying the dirt and smoke and toil of his former profession of a potter; and if proceeding
from such slender beginnings, he became master, in a little time, of all Sicily; brought the Carthaginian state into
the utmost danger; and at last died in old age, and in possession of sovereign dignity: must he not be allowed
something prodigious and extraordinary, and to have possessed great talents and capacity for business and action? His
historian, therefore, ought not to have alone related what tended to his reproach and infamy; but also what might
redound to his Praise and Honour.

In general, we may observe, that the distinction of voluntary or involuntary was little regarded by the ancients in
their moral reasonings; where they frequently treated the question as very doubtful, whether virtue could be taught
or not [Vid. Plato in Menone, Seneca de otio sap. cap. 31. So also Horace, Virtutem doctrina paret, naturane
donet, Epist. lib. I. ep. 18. Aeschines Socraticus, Dial. I.]? They justly considered that cowardice, meanness, levity,
anxiety, impatience, folly, and many other qualities of the mind, might appear ridiculous and deformed, contemptible
and odious, though independent of the will. Nor could it be supposed, at all times, in every man’s power to attain
every kind of mental more than of exterior beauty.

And here there occurs the fourth reflection which I purposed to make, in suggesting the reason why modern
philosophers have often followed a course in their moral enquiries so different from that of the ancients. In later
times, philosophy of all kinds, especially ethics, have been more closely united with theology than ever they were
observed to be among the heathens; and as this latter science admits of no terms of composition, but bends every branch
of knowledge to its own purpose, without much regard to the phenomena of nature, or to the unbiassed sentiments of the
mind, hence reasoning, and even language, have been warped from their natural course, and distinctions have been
endeavoured to be established where the difference of the objects was, in a manner, imperceptible. Philosophers, or
rather divines under that disguise, treating all morals as on a like footing with civil laws, guarded by the sanctions
of reward and punishment, were necessarily led to render this circumstance, of voluntary or
involuntary, the foundation of their whole theory. Every one may employ terms in what sense he
pleases: but this, in the mean time, must be allowed, that sentiments are every day experienced of blame and
praise, which have objects beyond the dominion of the will or choice, and of which it behoves us, if not as moralists,
as speculative philosophers at least, to give some satisfactory theory and explication.

A blemish, a fault, a vice, a crime; these expressions seem to denote different degrees of censure and
disapprobation; which are, however, all of them, at the bottom, pretty nearly all the same kind of species. The
explication of one will easily lead us into a just conception of the others; and it is of greater consequence to attend
to things than to verbal appellations. That we owe a duty to ourselves is confessed even in the most vulgar system of
morals; and it must be of consequence to examine that duty, in order to see whether it bears any affinity to that which
we owe to society. It is probable that the approbation attending the observance of both is of a similar nature, and
arises from similar principles, whatever appellation we may give to either of these excellencies.

by David Hume

55 The term, pride, is commonly taken in a bad sense; but this sentiment
seems indifferent, and may be either good or bad, according as it is well or ill founded, and according to the other
circumstances which accompany it. The French express this sentiment by the term, amour propre, but as they
also express self-love as well as vanity by the same term, there arises thence a great confusion in Rochefoucault, and
many of their moral writers.

56 Love and esteem are nearly the same passion, and arise from similar
causes. The qualities, which produce both, are such as communicate pleasures. But where this pleasure is severe and
serious; or where its object is great, and makes a strong impression, or where it produces any degree of humility and
awe; in all these cases, the passion, which arises from the pleasure, is more properly denominated esteem than love.
Benevolence attends both; but is connected with love in a more eminent degree. There seems to be still a stronger
mixture of pride in contempt than of humility in esteem; and the reason would not be difficulty to one, who studied
accurately the passions. All these various mixtures and compositions and appearances of sentiment from a very curious
subject of speculation, but are wide for our present purpose. Throughout this enquiry, we always consider in general,
what qualities are a subject of praise or of censure, without entering into all the minute differences of sentiment,
which they excite. It is evident, that whatever is contemned, is also disliked, as well as what is hated; and we here
endeavour to take objects, according to their most simple views and appearances. These sciences are but too apt to
appear abstract to common readers, even with all the precautions which we can take to clear them from superfluous
speculations, and bring them down to every capacity.

60 The following passage of Cicero is worth quoting, as being the most
clear and express to our purpose, that any thing can be imagined, and, in a dispute, which is chiefly verbal, must, on
account of the author, carry an authority, from which there can be no appeal.

I suppose, if Cicero were now alive, it would be found difficult to fetter his moral sentiments by narrow systems;
or persuade him, that no qualities were to be admitted as virtues, or acknowledged to be a part of personal
merit, but what were recommended by The Whole Duty of Man.